Saturday, February 28, 2015

MOVIE REVIEW PART FOUR EXCEPT NOT

THIS ENTIRE POST WILL BE IN CAPS.


FUCK THIS FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT FUCKING MOVIE LINK I'VE BEEN USING.

I REFUSE TO PLAY THIS STUPID FUCKNG MOVIE ONE MORE GODDAMNED TIME.  I SPENT THE PAST HOUR DOING SOMETHING ELSE SO I WOULDN'T HAVE TO WATCH THIS SHIT AGAIN AND JUST AS I GOT TO THE PART OF THE MOVIE I NEED TO REVIEW NEXT, MY PHONE RANG AND I HAD THE AUDACITY TO HIT 'PAUSE' ON THE MOVIE.  GUESS FUCKING WHAT, MY COMPUTER DECIDED TO THREATEN SUICIDE AND I HAD TO SHUT IT DOWN, ALL BECAUSE I HIT 'PAUSE,' AND THIS HAS HAPPENED MORE THAN ONCE.

I WILL NOT REVIEW THE REST OF THIS DUMB FUCKING MOVIE UNLESS SOMEONE SENDS ME A COPY OF IT THAT I CAN PLAY IN MY DVD PLAYER.  I'M NOT DOING THIS ANYMORE.  I HAVE WASTED ENOUGH OF MY LIFE ON ALL OF CHERYL'S STUPID BULLSHIT AND I REFUSE TO START THIS PIECE OF SHIT MOVIE FROM THE START ONE MORE GODDAMNED TIME.



I'VE ACTUALLY CALMED DOWN AT THIS POINT, BUT WRITING IN ALL CAPS MAKES ME LAUGH BECAUSE YOU'RE BEING FORCED TO READ EVERY WORD OF THIS AS IF I'M SCREAMING AT YOU.  I WANT SO BADLY TO WRITE LIKE A NORMAL PERSON RIGHT NOW, BUT I ALREADY SAID THAT THIS ENTIRE POST WOULD BE WRITTEN IN CAPS. 

I PROBABLY SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT THAT THROUGH. 

I'M GONNA STOP WRITING NOW.



Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Bonus Segment, Part Five: Win a T-Shirt!

We all know that there's something seriously wrong with Cheryl-- I mean, really, there are several things seriously wrong with Cheryl-- and to illustrate this, I'm going to post ten photos of Cheryl attempting to smile. 

Since all of you are fantastic and leave the most entertaining comments, I thought I'd come up with a 'Caption This' contest for my own amusement.  I've been amusing all of you for months; now it's your turn to return the favor.  The person who comes up with the caption that makes me laugh the hardest will win an autographed bottle of Snapple lemonade and a very special, custom-made T-shirt-- and when I say "very special," I fucking mean it:

I will have this made for you.
Also, my blog address will be on the back because I am an asshole.
 
 
HOLY SHIT, PRIZES, YOU GUYS!  BETTER BRING YOUR FUCKING A-GAME.
 



Here, let me start first:

             See? Easy.
 
Except it won't be so easy because it's pretty hard to make me laugh.  Sure, I do the uncomfortable pity laugh all the time, and I might silently snicker about something mildly amusing, but I rarely have the pleasure of laughing until I cry.  YOU'VE SEEN WHAT I'VE GONE THROUGH FOR ALL OF YOU.  Please, make me laugh.
 
I will number all of the photos.  When submitting your caption-- and you may do so either in the comment section or you may email me directly-- please include the photo number and your caption.  What's today?  February 25th?  Let's give it a week.  The contest will be closed at 11:59pm on March 4th and I will post the winner shortly after (I will also post every single caption that was submitted).
 
Okay, start thinking:
 
#1
 
 
 
#2
 
 
 
#3
 
 
 
#4
(I know she's not smiling here, but I couldn't resist)
 
 
 
#5
 
 
 
#6
 
 
 
#7
 
 
 
#8
 
 
 
#9
 
 
 
#10
 
 
 
Okay!  Get started!  You can submit as many entries as you want-- the goal here is to entertain me.  Go for it.  Submit 1,000 entries if you want.  There's no limit.
 
I will probably have my friend, Jaime, help me with the judging and you, too, can help by telling me whose caption is the funniest.  I will take all suggestions into consideration. 
 
There can only be one winner!  These t-shirts cost $25 to make!  This blog has been viewed almost 100,000 times!  I am not a bazillionaire!
 
 
MAKE ME LAUGH.
 



Monday, February 23, 2015

The Stupid Fucking Movie Review, Because Apparently You Guys Want Me to Kill Myself: Part Three

I fucking hate this.  This move is SO STUPID and that's why I haven't posted in a few days.  I just can't deal with starting this movie from the beginning every goddamned time I go to review the next part and having to watch it over and over (which I have to do for reasons I won't openly explain in this blog for legal purposes because fuck Cheryl Strayed) and it's slowly killing me.  I'll be honest with you-- wine isn't even cutting it anymore; I've switched to tequila to numb the pain and I haven't touched tequila in over a decade, ever since I was in Germany and I... you know what?  THAT story is infinitely more entertaining than this entire dumb fucking movie and book combined.  My friends have entitled that tale "The Bird Story" and it might be one of the funniest stories you will ever hear (or so I've been told by every person who has ever heard it).  It is also, unfortunately, a true story.  Maybe I'll post it as a Bonus Segment despite the fact that it has nothing to do with Cheryl and her big bag of bullshit.  WE'VE BEEN THROUGH A LOT TOGETHER, READERS.  We're close now.  I can share.  I'll just end the post with "...and fuck Cheryl!" and we can all pretend it was relevant.

But not today.  Maybe tomorrow, because I'm gonna need a break after this.

GODDAMNIT, HERE WE GO.  Tequila, don't fail me now.


Okay.  So, Cheese is attempting to navigate through some kind of 127-Hours-type rock formation and god bless Hollywood and their camera tricks.  It genuinely appears as if Cheese is gonna have to jump down like 20 feet off of a rock and then I guess the camera trick guy took a smoke break or something because when Cheese throws Monster down to the ground, OOPS, it's like a foot down.  Nice try, everybody, but you failed.  I hate this movie so much.

Cheese manages not to break her spine in the 1-foot jump down off the rock and whew, I'm just as relieved as you are.  That was close.

To further illustrate how fucking hardcore this trek was, Cheese crosses a tiny creek and OMG, SHE NAILS IT.  It's more like a really long puddle with a breeze blowing through it, but Cheese makes it seem super intense despite the fact that any normal person probably could've taken a good leap and DONE, but this is Cheese, so let's be dramatic.  She crushes it.  I'm so impressed.

She reaches Kennedy meadows and this is when Nick Hornsby takes some more dramatic license because none of this happened in the book (or in reality, for that matter).  Greg and a random group of men are waiting for her at Kennedy Meadows and when she walks up, they all applaud because of course they do.  Greg introduces her to all the random people and also introduces Monster-- because in the movie, Greg comes up with the name Monster.  He immediately insists on buying Cheese a goddamned Snapple lemonade and a bag of chips and I have another one of those eye-roll-induced strokes.  I recover just in time for everyone to be super impressed with Cheese and then I have another stroke and it's amazing I'm still alive at this point.

She gets her resupply package and I'm pleased to see that the $20 bill is accurate for the time period (which cannot be said of "Dallas Buyers Club," but then again, maybe it was "American Hustle;" I don't remember and I don't care at this point).  Anyway, Cheese also receives a letter from Paul and no she didn't (according to the totally true book) but sure, whatever, and Paul tells her how proud he is of her for doing what she's doing except oh, wait, not quite because she's done "almost nothing at all" at this point and he'll be proud of her when she finishes and I vomit all over myself.  Now that I've wiped myself off, I should also point out that Michener's The Novel is also included in her resupply box and NOPE, WE ALL KNOW CHERYL WOULDN'T HAVE SENT THAT TO HERSELF, but fuck everything!  Way to go, Hornsby!  Hate this...so much...

Cheese sponges off by a creek and then Trail Angel Ed shows up and tells her to come eat.  He's totally impressed with her because of course he is-- "I'm not a hiker like you"-- and then another thing happens that doesn't match with the book.  We all remember that Mr. Eagle Scout Albert was the one who emptied Cheryl's pack in the book.  Well, fuck that noise!  Ed's gonna do it in the movie!  He empties exactly four things from Cheese's pack: binoculars, saw, half of her guidebook and the condoms (but only 11 because Cheese keeps one).  Well, fuck me, I bet THAT certainly lightened the load!  She'll be flying from here on out, for sure!  Ed tries to get rid of some of her bookmobile and Cheese says, "These will never be burned," because fuck this movie, and when Ed holds up a disposable razor, Cheese says, "Never."  I can't even.

Ed then tells Cheese about her boots and REI and none of this is accurate as far as the book is concerned and I start twitching because I (unfortunately) have the whole goddamn book pretty much memorized at this point and I don't appreciate the Hollywood dramatic license because it confuses me and makes me uncomfortable.  Anyway, fuck you, me!  This is the movie!  Cheese calls REI and tells the operator that REI is her "favorite company forever and ever," and that is a direct quote.  I'M SORRY YOU'RE CONNECTED TO THIS MOVIE, REI. 

We suddenly have suffer through another one of her goddamned flashbacks about the stupid Michener book-- the one where she tells her mom how she's so much more sophisticated than her mom was at her age.  Her mom pretends to be not offended and Young Cheese says, "Why do you put up with my crap?"  Her mom responds to this question by saying, "You look so pretty in that dress," and this is when I slam my face into a doorknob.

"I'm an asshole!" --Cheese
"You're so pretty!" -- Cheese's mom

I HATE THIS MOVIE SO MUCH.

Back to the trail and Greg is there and he suggests that they bypass everything because OMG SO MUCH SNOW, and Cheese actually says the words, "I didn't come out here to ride buses," and SWEET DEATH, WHERE ARE YOU?  I'M WAITING.

Mom flashback: hospital, can't ride her horse, Leif runs away, Cheese cries in the bathroom and who fucking cares.

Back to the trail bus and where is Greg?  Real life Greg only confirmed the bus ride and where is he?  And where is Casino Bathroom Lady?  What happened to all the super awesome things from the book???

WHO CARES!

Holy fuck, it's Day 25, Cheese is trying to hitchhike and here comes Black Jimmy Carter.  Wait, what?  Jimmy Carter wasn't black in the book (nor was he black in the supposedly totally true article in Vanity Fair), but fuck, there aren't any black people in the movie (other than the mention of O.J. Simpson on the radio/television at Front Desk Lady's motel) and WE NEED A BLACK PERSON TO FULFILL OUR "WE'RE NOT RACIST" QUOTA so BLAM, Jimmy Carter is suddenly black.  Jimmy pulls over and Cheese is ready to jump right in when Jimmy tells her that he doesn't have room in his car to give her a ride and Cheese gets all bent and spits out, "What do you mean?" because she's Cheese and what the hell right does this black person have to deny her a ride.  Seriously.  That's how the scene reads.  They have their ridiculous conversation where Cheese explains how women are too oppressed to be hobos and says, "This is my life; this is not a hobo life," and I start to wonder how many strokes I can suffer before I cause irreparable damage.  Jimmy snaps a photo of Cheese, tells her that her story will be in the fall issue of the Hobo Times and then tells her about how his articles have been published by Harper's.  He starts to explain what Harper's is and Cheese goes Full Asshole:  "I know what Harper's is.  I want to write for Harper's someday; I don't really feel like being their centerfold bum of the month," and this makes me think that Cheese has not, in fact, heard of Harper's because I have never seen them publish a monthly Bum Centerfold, even though that sounds super sexy/intellectual.  Rawr/3.14159265359.  Yeah, say it in your sexy voice.  *Now tell me the Pythagorean theorem, yeah, tell me, do it, louder, louder, just like that, yes...*

Aaaaaaand, look at what's happening, I think I've had enough tequila.

Cheese gets picked up by Lou and Spider and everybody says "motherfucker" and I can't deal with this anymore.

Cheese is hiking again and absolutely murders a Simon and Garfunkel song with her own stupid lyrics.  I can't.  I just can't.  It's just as dumb as you imagine, except 100 times dumber.

Sudden flashback to her mom and Lady, and her mom says, "Please try to do the kindest thing," and that's the end of that because nothing in this movie makes sense.


Oh my fucking god, that's the third twenty minutes.  We're an hour into the movie now and I don't know if I can go on.

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Bonus Segment, Part Four: Vanity Fair is no Nancy Drew

It's been brought to my attention (and seriously, goddamn you people for letting me know about this shit) that OMG, they found the reporter from the Hobo Times who interviewed Cheryl NOTHING.  Vanity Fair published an article entitled, "Solving a Lingering Mystery From Cheryl Strayed's Wild," and isn't that adorable.  The problem with this misleading title is that THEY SOLVED NOTHING.

What a load of horseshit.  This proves absolutely nothing and SHAME ON VANITY FAIR FOR PUBLISHING THIS LOAD OF NONSENSE.  I have copied and pasted the entire Vanity Fair article  (go ahead an click that link if you think I'm being less than honest or leaving things out) and have highlighted and numbered the things with which I take issue.  Here it is.  Go ahead, read it.


**********


It started out simple, as these things often do. A short scene in Wild, in which Cheryl Strayed (Reese Witherspoon) encounters a reporter who says he is from something called the Hobo Times, had grabbed my interest. Did the article ever appear in the publication? What is the Hobo Times even? Is there a playful, alternate version of Strayed’s tale potentially hidden in the weathered pages of an old magazine?

I first came to Strayed’s story in her memoir Wild, published in 2012. Having lost my father to cancer when I was 23, the story of Strayed’s hike along the Pacific Crest Trail, in the wake of her own mother’s death, moved me. Many of the toughest parts of Strayed’s book are part of Wild on-screen, but I was tickled to see that the unexpected, sweet exchange with the Hobo Times reporter made the cut in the film as well. I had to know if this colorful character was even aware that he'd made it to the page and screen, and I wanted to re-unite him with the woman he met on that California highway 20 years ago.

In both the film and the book, the reporter wrote down Strayed’s first and last name, snapped a photo of her (1), gave her a hobo care package containing beer, an individually packaged cigarette, canned beans, and various other items, and told her to “look for his piece . . . in the fall issue of the Hobo Times (2).” In the book, Strayed called the man Jimmy Carter; in reality, she told me, he said his name was Jerry Brown—she maintained the spirit of the original California politician by swapping it with that of a nationally known one. She looked for him, along with the issue of the Hobo Times in which she might have appeared, while writing Wild, but had no luck at the time. “I sort of assumed that he never wrote the piece,” said Strayed. “Because I kept having to say, ‘I’m not really a hobo,’ I think he believed me that I was hiking the P.C.T. (3)"

A copy of the Hobo Times is not exactly easy to find. The magazine—known as “America’s Journal of Wanderlust”—was published about six times a year from 1987 through early 2000, as a supplement with a membership to the National Hobo Association. It has almost no online presence, save a few personal blogs from affiliated N.H.A. members. With the help of several libraries, eBay, and the Hobo Museum, I found nearly every edition from 1995 and 1996—none of them mentioning Strayed or Jerry Brown (4).

Many of the Hobo Times writers penned articles under pseudonyms (some examples: ‘No Bail’ John, Guitar Whitey, Fatcar Frank, Connecticut Shorty)—better known as “road names,” “road flags,” or “road monikers”—which meant Jerry Brown could’ve been the reporter’s real name, road name, or a spur-of-the-moment improvisation. Lucky for me, the founder of the N.H.A. and director of the Hobo Times used his real name, and Bobb Hopkins turned out to be the easiest person to locate in the process—he’s a film actor, writer, director, and producer credited on IMDB and has a production company called Super Chief Films.

When I spoke with Hopkins (road name “Santa Fe Bo”), I only knew the name that Strayed gave the writer in Wild, and Hopkins didn’t recall any Hobo Times writers called Jimmy Carter, or a story about a woman who fit Strayed’s description. (In the end, he found no record of a Jerry Brown, either.) (5) “I would remember a story like that—especially from a female out on a journey like that,” Hopkins said. “As founder of N.H.A., I was hands-on with every issue and don't recall that type of article.” When Hopkins located a copy of the elusive Fall 1995 edition, in which Strayed most likely would have appeared, he confirmed it: “No mention of ‘Jimmy Carter’ or a solo female hiker,” he e-mailed me. (6)

What Hopkins did remember was a car like the one described in Wild—a silver Chrysler LeBaron packed to the windows with newspapers, books, and clothes—that belonged to his brother-in-law, Bob “Itchy Foot” Stetson. “He owned a LeBaron—it wasn’t silver, it was like a cream color,” Hopkins explained. “And I remember when my niece first read the book she called and said, ‘Oh my God, Uncle Bobb, there’s a piece in here about the Hobo Times and that may be my dad.’ . . . He was a real character. He lived in California . . . he did travel around and he did pick up a lot of hitchhikers." (7)

Stetson passed away in 2010 at the age of 65 (8), but Hopkins’s aforementioned niece, Jennifer Fellows, was happy to fill in the blanks. An infant-well-being consultant and mother of three who will soon be relocating to her native California (she grew up in Woodland Hills), Fellows is certain that Strayed’s “Jimmy Carter” was her father. “I know it was my dad. It’s not even a question to me,” she said. (9) Back in 2012—when Strayed’s memoir was first released—her sister’s friend reached out, saying, “You’re never gonna believe this, there’s this book called Wild and your dad is in it!” Fellows and her siblings thought the description was spot on—she even posted an excerpt to Facebook at the time, which garnered a strong reaction from friends and family.

“He never used his real name, so when I read [in Wild] that it said ‘Jimmy Carter,’ I was totally laughing —he had so many nicknames!” Fellows said. “I know that there’s only so many writers for Hobo Times, and of all of them he’s the only one that drove a light-colored Chrysler LeBaron.”

Plenty of other things matched up—the description of his unkempt hair, the newspapers in the backseat, even the items in his “hobo care package.” While reading aloud Strayed’s list of its contents, Fellows interrupted me at, “six butterscotch candies in translucent gold wrappers,” exclaiming, “That’s my dad! That’s him! I choked on one when I was little—he always had those!” (10)

Stetson also worked in real estate and often traveled throughout California, so his meeting with Strayed more than 500 miles north of his home would check out. Fellows suspects her father likely saw much of his daughter in the young hiker—and would’ve reacted in similarly protective fashion to Strayed’s description of Jimmy Carter (11). “When I first heard about it, I was excited for her that she got to meet him,” said Fellows. “Obviously vice versa, because she’s pretty amazing—but when I was first thinking, Oh, that was totally him! I was like, ‘Oh my gosh, I’m so glad it was him and not some other creepy guy that could’ve been out there.’”

I sent Strayed a picture of Stetson given to me by Fellows, who described her father as looking like Jack Nicholson. “The Jack Nicholson comparison really strikes a chord with me,” Strayed responded. “The floppy brown hair. And this picture you sent looks very familiar. I think it’s him! The smile is what I remember the most in looking at this shot.” (12)

Even more important, though, Strayed says, is how the people who knew Stetson reacted to the book. “I also think it’s very compelling that various people who knew Bob Stetson thought it was him when they read the book,” she explained. (13) “I’ve had that experience with other people in the book, too—Doug Wisor (who died seven years after we hiked), for example. Many of his old friends from high school and college have written to me to say that they felt I portrayed him so much the way they remembered him and many of them recognized him even before they realized I was actually writing about “their Doug." Maybe the people who knew Bob are right and it was him since they think it was (i.e., it seemed like him to them).” (14)

When I told Fellows of my possible discovery, she was effusive. “I cried on my way to work this morning," she wrote. "My parents were so amazing. I miss them every day. My dad deserves to be talked about . . . he was so unique.” (15)  Strayed's trek, taken in the wake of her mother’s death, had re-united a daughter with her father, years after his passing.

And how would Stetson have felt about his portrayal in Wild? “My dad would’ve loved the book,” (16) said Fellows. “He was such an adventurer and outdoorsman, and even far before he got cancer, he just really lived life to the fullest and he didn’t wait until he got sick to start living like that—he always lived like that.”


**********
 
1.  ...except there is no record of this and no photo.
 
2.  ...except oh, hey, there was never a piece about her in the fall issue.
 
3.  "I think he believed me that I was hiking the PCT." = something liars say.
 
4.  Well, hey, would you look at that.  No mention of Cheryl Strayed written in an article by Jerry Brown or Jimmy Carter or Ronald Reagan or Charles Manson or Elvis.  That's so weird!  No mention of Cheryl!
 
5.  No record of Cheryl and no record of anyone named Jerry Brown.  NO RECORD. Cheryl says that the man's name was Jerry Brown.  No record of him, though.  Huh.
 
6.  Hey, look at that!  Again!  No record of Cheryl or her mysterious interviewer!
 
7.  Holy shit, this lady's dad had the same car and lived in California, that's all the proof we need!
 
8.  Damn the bad luck, the guy who supposedly interviewed Cheryl died and can't confirm dick.
 
9.  Oh, well, that's enough for me!  She *just knows it,* huh?  BLAM.  FACTS JUST HAPPENED.
 
10.  That seals it up, must have been him.  I don't even know what butterscotch candies are!  Who's heard of those?!  Not me, that's for sure!  He must have been the only person in California to have butterscotch candies!  I mean, his daughter almost choked to death on one!  What more proof do you need???  (My friend, April, said something delightful about this: "So, her dad made it a point to always have on hand the candy his daughter once choked on? Nice.")
 
11.  Let's just make shit up now because he's dead and can't confirm anything!
 
12.  Holy shit, CHERYL JUST CONFIRMED EVERYTHING.  OBVIOUSLY TRUE.
 
13.  Who are these "various people," exactly?
 
14.  Well, fuck, people *think* it was him, must have been him.  FACTS HAPPEN AGAIN.
 
15.  "My dad is dead and I liked him and junk, so here's the perfect opportunity to make him famous for something he didn't do because he was good enough and smart enough and doggone it, people liked him."
 
16.  SHUT THE FUCK UP.
 
 
(Let's not forget that the article's author, Katie Calautti, went through her very own dead-parent drama and clearly just loves Cheryl and her stupid book.)
 
 
Okay, everybody.  Your turn.  Do your worst.

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Bonus Segment, Part Three: My Email to Vanity Fair

Is this what journalism has become?

What a steaming pile of stinking conjecture that article was.

A random woman *just has a strong feeling* that her father may have interviewed Cheryl Strayed back in '95-- but has no proof whatsoever-- and you print this as fact?  Unbelievable. 

I understand that Cheryl Strayed and her multiple press people are going out of their way to scrub the internet of negative press so as to cover up Cheryl's obvious lies about her pretend hike on the PCT, but really, Vanity Fair?  You're playing this game?  Shame on you.

Your article proves nothing.  1) You do not have the article that Mr. Hobo Times supposedly wrote because it was never published (and likely never written).  2) You do not have the photograph that Mr. Hobo Times took of Cheryl (likely because it was never taken).  3) You have absolutely no proof of anything.  All you have is someone who *just knows in her heart* that her dead father-- who conveniently cannot be interviewed-- talked to Cheryl Strayed when she was on her pretend hike.  Oh, but wait, he had a Chrysler LeBaron and had butterscotch candies!  Well, my mistake!  Clearly, only one person in the world would fit that description!  My goodness, you've solved it!

How dare you publish this garbage.  Shame on you.

Why don't you spend some time doing some ACTUAL investigative journalism and look into Cheryl's obviously false claims about her hike-- or is that too much to ask?  Her entire "memoir" is a fabrication.  Her mileage doesn't add up.  Her descriptions of the trail don't match.  People have refused to come forward to validate her claim (go ahead, find the Three Young Bucks and see if they'll tell you everything is true, I dare you). Look into that if you want to prove that you're even half a step above The National Inquirer. 

Shame on you.  I'll never read your publication again.  On the same note, I have thousands upon thousands of readers who will also boycott your magazine (and who will also tell their thousands upon thousands of friends to do the same) the minute I post your article, my synopsis of it and my encouragement to boycott you.

Please tell me that you're going to correct this.

E. Parete
Califohioan@gmail.com

The Stupid Fucking Movie Review, Because Apparently You Guys Want Me to Kill Myself: Part Two


This movie is so fucking stupid.


Cheese survives through the night without getting eaten by all the scary animals that aren't around and it's the morning of Day Two.

She reads the instructions for her stove again and finally realizes that she has the wrong kind of fuel.  In the book, she actually uses the fuel, breaks the stove and then reads the instructions, but I guess Nick Hornby, the doofus responsible for the screenplay, thought that was too stupid and wanted Cheese to seem slightly more intelligent.  Slightly.  Anyway, Cheese throws a tantrum upon realizing that her stove isn't going to work and kicks the fuel can into the desert because she is nine years old and also enjoys littering.

We're then subjected to a montage of Cheese miserably eating cold mush again and again while also having to suffer through the voiceover:

"Cold mush is great.  Cold mush with nuts.  Cold mush with tuna jerky.  Cold mush dreams.  Cold mush shit.  I love cold mush."

Ugh.  There's actually a shot of the crap cairn when she says "cold mush shit" because I guess people who <3 Cheryl think that's funny.  I should again mention my suspicion that Robin Desser was somehow involved in the movie because Cheese's right hand repeatedly goes from being all scraped up to not scraped up to scraped up and then not again in every other goddamned shot.  DID SHE SCRAPE HER HAND OR NOT, IDIOTS?  Nice editing, everybody.  Good job.

Suddenly it's "Day Five, Mile 30" and pfffffffft, no it isn't because according to her own mileage tracking in the stupid book, she won't reach Mile 30 until Day Six.  Since none of this is true in the first place, I guess it doesn't matter.

Cheese is walking through the desert and having a pity party for herself.  Walking is hard!  I miss toilets!  I like food and people!  Hiking is dumb!

That's all we get from Day Five because BLAM it's suddenly Day Eight and she's still in the desert.  This confuses me because in the book, she was already supposedly on top of a mountain by Day Two-- "I knew it was the top because there was snow"-- and what the hell.  Anyway, she's sitting in the desert and she runs out of food.  She leaves the trail and goes singing through the desert while hearing her mom talk to her because she's a psychopath until she finally sees a tractor like a quarter mile away, and since she doesn't understand how tractors work, she starts shouting, "HEY, HEY" at it even though it's super loud and jesus, this is all so stupid.

The man on the tractor finally sees her and he's all grumpy and stuff.  Cheese wants a ride to a restaurant and Grumpy is all fuck-you-nothing-is-open-at-this-time-of-night and Cheese makes her best pouty face.  She asks if he'll just drop her off at a restaurant so she can camp in front of it until morning and I guess this melts Grumpy's heart because he's suddenly all, "You must be starving," and tells her to go wait in his truck while he finishes up doing god knows what on his tractor in the middle of the desert at night.

Cheese pokes around his truck and finds a gun and OMG SCARY!  Grumpy, whose name is Frank, finally gets into the truck and tells her that she can come back to his place for a hot dinner and a shower.  He whips a flask out of nowhere, offers it to Cheese and says, "Ladies first," and goddamnit, WHO ACCEPTS A DRINK FROM A STRANGE MAN WHO KEEPS A GUN IN HIS TRUCK but whatever, go ahead, I'm sure you'll be fine.  Cheese takes a dainty little sip and Frank gulps down about a pint of the hard alcohol that he describes as "cheap, but good."  Things start getting rapey when Frank asks, "What kind of woman are you," then compares her to Tarzan's Jane and finally proclaims, "I'm gonna call you Jane!"  There's nothing weird about that because whenever I meet new people, I just disregard their real names and assign them new names that are more to my liking.


Cheese is getting super uncomfortable and lies her face off, telling Frank that she's hiking with her husband and that he's totally around somewhere and blah blah blah, lies and lies and more lies.  Apparently Frank has a different conversation playing in his head because instead of responding to what she's saying, he leans back and says, "I got a little something else I like to do after a hard day's work," and SPOILER it's not raping and murdering stupid hikers.  He whips out some licorice because that's what big, strong men like to reward themselves with and then he makes Cheese promise not to tell his wife about the licorice because "she doesn't like it when I eat candy" (but drinking and driving is apparently totally cool with her).  JUST DON'T MENTION THE CANDY.  This scene was so poorly written.  You suck, Nick Hornsby.

They get to Frank's place and his old, overweight wife is putting dinner on the table.  Before Cheese sits down, Frank's wife (who doesn't get to have a name in the movie) puts some newspapers down on Cheese's chair because apparently she can smell Cheese's stank from the doorway.  Anyway, Cheese sits down and OMG, FOOD.  She starts shoveling things onto her plate and eats like a goddamned caveman NOM NOM BLARGH NOM NOM NOM and jesus, try not to accidentally eat one of your own fingers, dumbass.  Frank goes Full Sexist and makes comments like, "It's one thing for a man to take a hike like that, but..." blah blah blah and says something about how a man shouldn't "allow his wife" to do such a thing and pfffffffffft.  Then there's an OMG SO FUNNY conversation about how Frank's old, fat wife is gonna go hiking with Cheese and hahahaha, that's so ridiculous, look at how old and fat she is!  Hahaha!  Women can't do anything!

Cheese takes a shower and flashback time!  Cheese and Paul are getting matching horse tattoos.  The tattooist, played by Everclear's own Art Alexakis, asks what the horse is all about and Paul says, "We both just really dig horses," and then gives Cheese a look (instead of explaining how Cheese tortured a horse to death).  They tell Art that the tattoo is to celebrate their divorce because that's what couples do when they get divorced and Cheese decides to loudly word-vomit, "I cheated on him!" and boundaries, Cheese, boundaries.  Thanks for making it weird.  Since that in and of itself apparently wasn't enough to make everyone uncomfortable, she goes even further: "I cheated on him a lot of times."  Gaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh.

Smash cut to the next flashback: DIVORCE TIME!  The two of them are sitting in front of what looks like the Planned Parenthood version of a lawyer and Cheese is explaining how to pronounce her new last name to Divorce Lady:  "Like a stray dog.  It just sounded right."  Divorce Lady doesn't say anything but clearly thinks it's a stupid name and I'm right there with you, Divorce Lady.

Smash cut again to Paul putting the divorce papers in the mail because Cheese can't bring herself to do it.  They kiss and hug goodbye and who fucking cares.

GODDAMNIT, THIS MOVIE IS SO BORING.

The stupid flashback ends and now it's Day Nine, June 21, 1995, as if that's a super important detail or something.  Frank takes Cheese to get the appropriate fuel for her stove and then they have a dumb conversation in the truck about how Frank thinks Cheese should quit her hike because he's a big expert on quitting things.  Who even cares.

Cheese is finally back on the trail and she signs another trail register, this time attributing song lyrics from Joni Mitchell's "California" to herself: "'Will you take me as I am?  Will you?'-- Joni Mitchell and Cheryl Strayed."  GFY.

She camps for the night and OMG THE STOVE WORKS, YOU SHOULD DEFINITELY LAUGH HYSTERICALLY LIKE AN ASSHOLE AND THEN HOWL WITH ALL THE ANIMALS.  Fuck this movie.

Day Ten and Cheese tells us that she's hiking "five to seven miles a day" and I'm so confused because in her totally true book, she claims that she was hiking nine miles a day at this point.  I remember this because I wrote, "You fail at life" in the margin next to this claim (page 70).  Anyway, like it matters and HOLY FUCK, RATTLESNAKE!  It must have been some kind of ninja rattlesnake because it was completely silent until Cheese "almost steps on it" and I'm so glad this made it into the movie because now everyone knows how rattlesnakes work.

Cheese's hand continues to be scraped up and then not scraped up and then scraped up again.

She camps for the night and almost starts having a flashback except OMFG THERE'S A RATTLESNAKE IN HER SLEEPING BAG except no, it's a tiny, fuzzy caterpillar and as soon as Cheese shakes the terrifying fuzzy caterpillar out of her bag, she inexplicably Takes Back The Night with her rape whistle because I guess the caterpillar flashed its penis at her in a threatening manner or something and blowing the shit out of a whistle is going to make everything better.  I don't fucking know.  Nothing in this movie makes sense.

Once the caterpillar crawls away, Cheese is free to go back to having another stupid flashback.  Heroin time!  Cheese is totes hardcore into heroin and okay, whatever.  She and her friend Aimee are at a restaurant and she says a bunch of stupid shit like, "I'm not a junkie, I'm in control," and, "I'm the girl who says yes instead of no."  Blargh.

Back to the trail!  I love all these clumsy transitions between the trail and her stupid past!  It's so enjoyable and not disconcerting in any way!  Anyway, she's walking and NAKED MAN.  Oh, christ.

Naked Man is all, "Hi, Cheese!" and she just stares at his junk because of course she does.  He finally gets dressed, introduces himself-- Greg-- and then they compare mileage.  Greg is hiking an average of twenty-two miles a day and Cheese lies, saying that she's hiking "eleven or twelve."  Greg explains how snow works and claims that the Sierra just had the "biggest snowfall in a decade," and no, in 1995, it had not, but fuck facts!  Greg asks if she's going to bypass the Sierra and Cheese says something that made me snort audibly in the theater: "Sure, I'll bypass anything."  That's probably the only true line in this whole movie.

They make plans to meet at Kennedy Meadows and Greg hikes on, leaving Cheese alone so she can have another goddamned flashback.  She's back at the restaurant with Aimee and tells Aimee that she's pregnant.  She's pretty sure she knows who the father is and Aimee is disgusted.  They leave and I guess like five feet of snow had fallen in the time they had been in the restaurant because they go to REI to get a "pregnancy test AND a shovel" (<----- no shit, Aimee actually says this) and who fucking knew that REI carried pregnancy tests?  I sure didn't know this, and REI is unaware of it, too.



She takes the pregnancy test right there in the REI bathroom and oh, darn.  Time to make tuna flakes!  Cheese shovels snow like a lunatic while Aimee watches.  "There's no plan to make.  I'm not gonna have this baby," Cheese says and yeah, we know.  She talks about how awesome she used to be because I'm sure that's accurate and then says that she's going to "walk myself back to the woman my mother thought I was" and that doesn't make any sense.



That's the second twenty minutes.  Yeah.  I don't know if I have the stomach for this.


Friday, February 13, 2015

The Stupid Fucking Movie Review, Because Apparently You Guys Want Me to Kill Myself: Part One, Day One

[Blogger's note:  This isn't really a "review," per se.  People who write movie reviews usually give a plot summary and explore character development and talk about cinematography or something, whereas I say things like, "Eat a bag of dicks," and then threaten to set myself on fire.  If you're looking for an intelligent, thoughtful review of this movie, LOOK AWAY.  This is more of a scene-by-agonizing-scene breakdown of the movie accompanied by whatever garbage that happens to pop into my head.  Be warned.]



Wild


This movie is a crap cairn.  I saw it in the theater about a month or so ago and was filled with dread upon leaving the theater because I knew I was gonna have to watch it again (and again and again) in order to write a review.  The movie is HORRIBLE.  I'm not just saying this because I hated the book.  It's an awful movie.  As much as I enjoy hating on Cheryl Strayed, the movie is just worthless.  It's dumb and boring and I don't even know how I'm going to make this entertaining.  Also, because I believe in being accurate and detailed, this is going to take forever.  Sometimes I hate you guys for enjoying this.

Let's get started.  Since the movie is about Cheryl and Cheryl is played by Reese, I will refer to the character in the movie as Cheese from here on out.  Don't try to pronounce it all crazy; just call her Cheese.

The movie opens with a nice, peaceful shot of the wilderness that is immediately ruined with what sounds like a woman panting and moaning like she's either getting laid or fiddling with her pudendum and it's so hot and sexy that this lady shows up:

Wait, no, wrong movie, my mistake.


 
We finally discover that no, Cheese isn't having sex right there in the first five seconds; she's hiking and that's the sound of her hiking because that's totally what hikers sound like.
 
Cheese sits down on the top of a big hill/cliff/mountain/who knows, takes off her boots and her bloody socks (she almost orgasms at this point) and OMG, her feet are totes a big, bloody mess, you guys.  Her big toenail is totally black and I'm on the edge of my seat.  She flicks it or something and I guess Robin Desser was one of the special effects people because it almost flies right off before Cheese has a chance to make a big, dramatic to-do about ripping it off.  Cheese looks at her toenail and says, "I'd rather be a hammer than a nail," and I wonder what it would be like to live my entire life just quoting other people.  I imagine it would be difficult and stupid.  Anyway, she rips off her toenail because of course she does and then she screams, falls back and collapses on Monster.  Monster tips over and knocks her boot off the big hill/cliff/mountain/who knows.  You decide what it is:
 
 
 
Cheese can't even believe that just happened and cue Full Cheese.  She screams, "FUCK YOU, BITCH," at... I don't even... the wilderness?  Then, because she's a super smart lady, she chucks her other boot over the edge because that makes total sense.
 
It should be noted that this is decidedly not how it went down in the book, and that's super important because we all know the book is totally true it's not important.
 
Time for the opening credits, but first we're forced to watch a series of Tyler Durden-esque film edits of split-second nonsense, which include a fox, burning book pages and Cheese taking it up the ass from some random dude.  Gross.  No one wants to see this.

Thank god that's over with and the next scene opens with Cheese getting out of a pickup truck at the Yellow Blazer Motel or whatever they call it.  In the book, a guy dropped her off, but in the movie, none other than Cheryl Fucking Strayed drops her off.  No shit, she has a cameo, and she totally nails her line: "Good luck."

Cheese walks into the motel and Front Desk Lady is waiting for her (we can hear news coverage about the O.J. Simpson trial in the background because apparently this is super important except it isn't).  We suffer through their whole exchange about how much the room will be if it's just her, but that it will be more if someone joins her and blah blah blah the scene goes on for way too long, so I'll just write my own condensed scene.
Cheese: Gimme a room.
Front Desk Lady: It'll be $18, unless you're a whore, and you look like a whore.
Cheese: I'm not a whore.
FDL: Yes, you are.
Cheese: Nuh-uh.
FDL: Yes-huh.  Whore.
Cheese: Stop it.
FDL: Whatever.  $18.  For now.  Whore. 

End scene.

Cheese gets to her room and calls Paul.  This doesn't happen in the book-- she only thinks about calling Paul, but doesn't-- but fuck that noise, this is the movie!  She calls Paul, her ex-husband.  Paul answers the phone and OMG, HE'S WITH A GIRL!  Awkward!  Once Cheese realizes that he's with a girl, she tries to play it cool, like, "I'm only calling because I'm looking for Leif," (for those of you who aren't in the know, Leif is her brother) and what the fuck is this all about.  Leif doesn't live with Paul, Cheese doesn't give two shits about Leif and Leif already knows where she is.  Cute, putting that in there to make it seem like she's concerned about someone other than herself when we know the opposite is true.  The conversation is stupid and it finally ends with Paul saying, "Happy trails, [Cheese]."

There's a shot of water leaking from the ceiling into a bucket in the motel room and I don't remember that from the book, but sure, whatever.  Cheese washes her hair in the bathtub without actually getting undressed or taking a shower because I have no fucking idea.  She looks out the window of her motel room, sees a sexy cowboy (rawr), takes The World's Loudest Whistle out of its packaging and sticks it in her mouth.  Doing so apparently triggers a flashback of her sucking on some dude's finger while getting banged and then we're forced to witness a brief flashback of her getting plowed from behind and I want to set my eyes on fire.

The next scene opens and it's the following morning-- the morning of her first day of the hike-- and she packs up Monster.  There's a brown paper bag behind her with "REI" printed on it and I wonder if REI used brown grocery bags back in 1995.  It takes her forever to unpack all of her gear out the original packaging-- including the water purifier, which, in the book, she supposedly had already de-packaged and learned how to use in her kitchen sink back in Minnesota, in the same sentence as having an abortion and making dehydrated tuna flakes-- and then she packs everything into Monster.  She thinks she's finished and then OH, DARN, WATER!  She fills her giant dromedary bag in the bathtub and water noises, water noises, "Shit, shit, shit," omg, it's so heavy and unwieldy!  Cheese finally gets the dromedary bag attached to Monster and ALL DONE!

Here comes the part that I guess is supposed to be funny to people who don't know dick about how things work in the real world:  CHEESE CAN'T LIFT THE PACK, OMG LOL.  Look at her struggle with it!  LOLOL!  This is so funny, omg I <3 this!

I want to throw a grenade at the screen.

This scene keeps going because LOL and she straps herself into the pack while sitting on the ground, tries to stand up, fails, tries again and then LOLOLOLOLOL YOU GUYS, THE PACK FALLS ON TOP OF HER, OMG THIS IS SO FUNNY, SHE'S SO BRAVE and fuck me right in the face.  She rolls back and forth until the momentum gets her onto her knees and then, without breaking the air conditioner (like she did in the book), she finally manages to stand up with her pack on.

Cheese shows up at the gas station and allow me to point out that Reese fucking sucks at pretending she's wearing an 80-pound pack.  She may as well have skipped to the gas station.  Pfffffft, whatever, and now Cheese is scoping out the gas station patrons for a ride.  There's a shot of two creepy men in a van-type vehicle-- the ones she actually took a ride from in the book-- and then a shot of a wholesome father and son and whaddya know, she takes a ride with them.

The next scene opens with Cheese in the back seat of a minivan, a doofus-looking dad-type in the driver's seat and a too-cool-for-school teenaged emo-boy riding up front.  Doofus asks some questions and Cheese misleads him, saying that she's hiking the PCT and that the PCT runs from Mexico to Canada-- but she'll be stopping in Ashland-- and I wonder how many people watched this piece of shit and left under the impression that she hiked the whole goddamned thing.  Anyway, Doofus asks her if she's an experienced hiker and she says, I shit you not, "I'm not obsessive, but this is a stretch, even for me," and I BET IT'S A FUCKING STRETCH, SEEING AS YOU'VE NEVER HIKED BEFORE, YOU STUPID TWAT.  Oh, god, I hate this so much.

Anyway, Doofus turns on the radio in the minivan and how convenient, the song "You Can Never Go Home Again" by the Shangri-las is playing and I'm not even going to bother linking you to the lyrics because it's unnecessary at this point and fuck Cheryl.  So stupid.  I know you're going to look it up now anyway, and knock yourselves out.  Don't say I didn't try to spare you.  So, whatever, this song is playing and of course it sends Cheese into a Mom-flashback where Mom is dancing around and seems drunk.  I don't...

Totally moody teenage son in the minivan suddenly turns the radio off because he's trying to read and old people are lame, and Doofus Dad passive-aggressively says, "I love you, too, son," because he is a huge pussy who isn't in control of anything and this is why Cheese accepted a ride from him.  Barf.  Somebody oughta smack that kid.

Cheese gets dropped off at god knows where and starts hiking.  Reese still sucks at pretending that the pack is heavy and I roll my eyes.  Traffic is still visible in the background-- as in, Cheese has walked about 20 feet-- when she first thinks about giving up.  Really?

She gets maybe 100 feet into her journey and BLAM, Trail Register.  Cheese opens it up to sign in and here is the first of many instances regarding this matter when I want to throttle her with my bare hands.  She writes in the register,

"'If your nerve deny you, go above your nerve.' -- Emily Dickinson, and Cheryl Strayed"

GODDAMNMOTHERFUCKINGASSHATPIECEOFSHIT, THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS.  If I recited the entire Emancipation Proclamation right now, I still couldn't attribute the quote to myself just because the words came out of my mouth.  Cheese doesn't seem to understand this and attributes various quotes to herself throughout the whole goddamned movie and it makes me want to murder something.  THAT'S NOT HOW QUOTES WORK.

She's still within eyesight of traffic and already her inner monologue is at Full Cheese: "What the fuck have I done...You can quit at any time... You can quit at any time... You can qu--" HOLY SHIT, WHO IS THAT SECOND VOICE-- MOM, IS THAT YOU?!

Groan.

Cheese rubs some wild something into her hands and inhales and who cares.

She *walks and walks and walks* and omg, SO TIRED.  The movie lets us know that she is 5 miles into her hike and already I call bullshit because we all know she only walked 4 miles on her first day and pfffffffffft.  She stops to make camp and here comes another scene for all the Cheryl-Lovers:  She doesn't know how to put her tent together, LOLOL, Oh, Cheryl!!!  She acts like an idiot, tries reading the tent directions and omg, this is so hard, you guys!  I'm so unprepared!  LOL!

She finally gets her stupid tent put together and it's time for dinner.  She takes a glance at the directions for her little stove, decides that directions are hard and opts to eat cold food, instead.  She starts writing in her journal (WHHHAAAAAA----?) and then reads some poetry because of course she does.  Suddenly, flashback.

Tracy Flick Cheese is walking through the halls of her college (looks like a high school to me), talking to her friend about OMG A BOY and she passes her mom.  She ignores her because that's totally the cool thing to do and once her friend is out of sight, she turns around and calls to her mom, "Bobbi!"  (Let's remember that calling her mom by her first name was on the list of things her mom did wrong, but whatevs, this is the movie.)  Blah blah blah, barf.

Still in the flashback, Cheese and Bobbi are back at home and Cheese is acting like she's so proud of Bobbi for going to school and goddamnit, what the fuck is this.  Bobbi mentions Erica Jong and asks what "zipless fucks" are, stating that she HAS TO WRITE A PAPER ABOUT ZIPLESS FUCKS and what goddamned college are they attending.  Cheese is all, "Gross!  I'm not talking about this with you," and then Leif shows up with a friend.  Because Bobbi is a decent human being, she starts making dinner for Leif and Company and Cheese gets all bent about it because she wants her mom to be a selfish dick like her.

Flashback over, it's nighttime and Cheese is in her tent.  OMG, A NOISE, QUICK, FREAK OUT!

And that's the first 20 minutes of the movie.  I want to kill myself already.




Monday, February 9, 2015

Part Thirty-Nine of review of "Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail," Chapter Nineteen: The Last Stupid Chapter

A review of Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail, by Cheryl Strayed

Part Thirty-Nine, Chapter Nineteen: The Last Stupid Chapter


Chapter Nineteen starts with Cheryl sitting alone at a picnic table and packing Monster, the TYB having "left at dawn" because once again, Cheryl can't hike with real people for more than five minutes.

Drooling Ranger Guy shows up and gives Cheryl a package that just arrived for her from a friend she hasn't mentioned before and it's crazy amazing timing that she happened to be right there when the package arrived, kind of like how Lisa showed up out of the fucking blue because she just had a feeling that Cheryl would be right there, right then.  This is all so stupid.

Cheryl thanks Guy for the package and "for the drinks the other night and the hospitality" while managing to not laugh or make fun of him because she's totes found, everybody.  She's Cheryl 2.0 now, totally different from before in every absolutely no way.  She opens her big mystery package from whomever and holy shit, chocolate and wine.

"I ate some chocolate immediately while pondering the wine.  Much as I wanted to open it that night on the trail, I wasn't willing to lug the empty bottle all the way to Timberline Lodge,"

and goddamnit, what the fuck is she talking about.  First of all, Cheryl loves to carry useless shit.  A bunch of books?  Absolutely!  Thousand-dollar camera she apparently only used like four times?  Heck, yeah!  Also, she's had no qualms about littering repeatedly on the trail so far; why not just chuck the bottle into some bushes, Cheryl?  Since when do you give a shit?

Anycrap, Cheryl gets up to leave and Doug of Doug-and-Tom appears and no he doesn't.  Guess how they say hello.

"'Doug, Doug, Doug,' I kept saying.
"'Cheryl, Cheryl, Cheryl!' he said to me."

Of course.

They eye-fuck one another for a minute and then Cheryl asks where Tom is.

"'He's a few miles back.  He'll catch up later.'"

Except he won't, and we'll get to this.  Their joyful reunion continues and because Cheryl is the most amazing person ever to have lived, of course Doug says this:

"'We read your notes in the register all summer long.  They motivated us to crank.  We wanted to catch up with you.'"

Jennifer Lawrence totally believes you.
 
 
 
Doug invites her to hike with him and she accepts "without hesitation" because Doug isn't a real person, but she goes on to explain,
 
"'I've got to hike those last days before I get into Cascade Locks alone-- you know, just to finish like I started--"

And WHY, Cheryl.  Why.  [Blogger's note: Please watch the excellent movie "Mile, Mile and a Half."  Tell me that you would want to celebrate alone.  Please, watch it.  It's an incredible documentary.]

I guess they hike or something because it's suddenly nighttime and they're building a fire.  For reasons I still can't logically comprehend, Tom never catches up with the two of them even though he was only "a few miles back" and I don't even care anymore.  All of this is complete bullshit.  They take turns drinking the wine "straight from the bottle" because that's super hard-core and then have a conversation I can't even deal with because it's too stupid and you're welcome.

After they finish the wine, Cheryl asks Doug if he wants something to read and then whips her goddamned bookmobile out of Monster.  Doug declines and then Cheryl spends half of a page reminding us how super-smart she is, using the title/phrase "the ten thousand things" three times in one paragraph.  She once again forgets how words work:

"Each of Dermoƻt's sentences came at me like a soft knowing dagger,"

and if I ever get stabbed, I hope it's with a "soft knowing dagger" because that sounds pleasantly comfy and HEY, ROBIN DESSER, REMEMBER COMMAS?  ARE YOU AWAKE?  *pokes the lifeless body of Robin Desser*  HEY.  YOU.  HEY... hey...?

Doug decides to turn in for the night and says that Tom will "probably catch up" with them the next day and how the fuck did Tom not already catch up with th-- oh, who cares.

Cheryl starts talking about her stepfather and how he taught her all kinds of outdoorsy things and how she never would have been out on the PCT if it hadn't been for him, yet still manages to take a giant dump on him at the end of the paragraph because she's a giant asshole.

She then goes Full Cheryl once again in describing one of the books she's been carrying this whole time and I can't even bother.  NO ONE CARES, CHERYL.

Flash, bam, it's suddenly two days later and she's at Timberline Lodge.  I guess Tom finally caught up because he's there, too, as well as what appears to be a lesbian ex-couple and sure, whatever.  She claims that the five of them all hiked together and,

"On our long breaks we played hacky sack and skinny-dipped in an icy-cold lake, incited the wrath of hornets and then ran from them while we laughed and screamed."

I'm sure all of this is totally legitimate because there's nothing lesbians love more than getting naked in the company of men and oh, wait, the opposite of that.  She claims that they were "like a tribe, bonded in that way I imagined kids felt when they spent a week together at summer camp," and I guess we're supposed to feel sorry for Cheryl because she's implying that she never went to summer camp or some shit.  Again, NO ONE CARES, CHERYL.

They all finally arrive at Timberline Lodge and Cheryl says a bunch of shit I don't care about.  You're welcome, again.  She does her stupid hopscotch thing yet again-- "hop, skip, spin, done"-- and I don't remember spinning being a part of hopscotch, but I'm over it at this point.  She has fifty miles to go before she reaches the Bridge of the Gods.

She says goodbye to everyone and starts hiking alone again because or course she does, starts rambling on about how awesome it is to be alone again, lets us know how amazing she is and then has another Mom-attack because there are only five pages left in the book and she had to squeeze that in there one last time.

She walks a vague number of days alone and peels off another toenail, the sixth one, and pfffffft, bullshit.

She reaches the Columbia River and actually says,

"It seemed like a miracle that I finally had the river in my sights, as if a newborn baby had just slipped into my palms after a long labor."

Whatever, Tuna Flakes.  Go fuck yourself.

She keeps hiking and what the fuck is this all about:

"I walked through spiderwebs, feeling them like magic on my face,"

and pardon me all over the place, but when real people walk through spiderwebs, it isn't a magical experience.  It's more like,

Not magical.
 
 
 
Anyway, it's Friday morning and Cheryl says that she "could feel the Friday morningness emanating from the houses" she passed and I think I can smell Robin Desser's rotting corpse.
 
 
She reaches the Bridge of the Gods and manages to avoid paying the toll to get to it by telling the woman in the tollbooth that she only wanted to touch it and I roll my eyes.  She copies and pastes more information abou-- you know what, fuck this.  We all know what she did.
 
She high-fives herself--
 
"I had arrived.  I'd done it."

And in large, angry letters, I had scrawled, "DONE WHAT," next to those sentences.  She claims that she had saved "a couple of dollars" to buy ice-cream cones and I throw the book across the room while looking for something to punch.  She gets a "chocolate-vanilla twist cone," and says that she now only has twenty goddamned cents to her name.  Then she,

"ate every bit of my cone and..."

BITS.  BITS BITS BITS BITS BITS.  THE WORLD DOES NOT COME IN INCREMENTS OF BITS, YOU STUPID TWIT.

Whatever, she sits outside the ice-cream shop and a "young man in a business suit" drives up in a BMW.

"'Hi,' he said to me as he passed.  He was about my age, his hair gelled back, his shoes impeccable.  Once he had his cone, he returned to stand near me."

What the fuck is Gordon Gekko doing at an ice-cream stand in the middle of the PCT, but whatever, yes, this is happening.  He's super observant:

"'Looks like you've been backpacking.'"

Cheryl can't even contain herself.  She lies and tells him that she just hiked "over eleven hundred miles" and he worships her because of course he does.  He tells her that he's an attorney, gives her his business card and fuck everything.

"'Give me a call once you settle in.  I'd love to take you out to lunch and hear more about your trip."

 Cheryl finishes up this make-believe conversation with Mr. BMW saying,

"'It was an honor to meet you at this momentous juncture,"

and this is when I pour gasoline all over myself and light a firecracker.

She concludes the book with a bunch of stupid garbage about how she would finally meet her husband, have two kids and eventually come back to this very ice-cream stand so they could all remember her fake hike together as a family.

She says how Doug very conveniently died and therefore would be unable to validate her lies.

She actually writes this sentence fragment:

"That it was enough to trust that what I'd done was true."

You know what?  I'm going to walk the entire length of the ADT next year and if/when I write about it, I certainly won't feel the need to end my book with, "That it was enough to trust that what I'd done was true," because I'm gonna have documentation coming out of my fucking ears by the time I finish.  Cheryl needs to write this because she made this whole fucking book up.

And that's it, everybody.  That was Wild.  If I had a mic right now, I'd drop it, set it on fire and leave the stage while giving double middle-fingers to everyone.

I'm out.

Thursday, February 5, 2015

Bonus Segment, Part Two: Cheryl Strayed is a Coward

Bonus Segment, Part Two: Cheryl Strayed is a Coward


I still have one more chapter to review.  I was in the middle of writing that review this morning when I took a moment to read some of your replies on Cheryl's disaster of a FB post/meltdown (https://www.facebook.com/CherylStrayed.Author/posts/964856360206321).  Under Melisssa Dennison's reply, I decided to comment.  (*Cheryl has since removed the entire thread.)





Cheryl took time out of her busy schedule of Googling herself and looking in the mirror to respond:

"Erin ******, what a life you must have to spend your time on the social media pages of authors you hate. Get a dictionary and look up the definitions of backpacking and hiking. There's a difference. It can be true that you have done lots of hiking without ever having gone backpacking. It can be true that you have some wilderness experience without still having some things to learn. It can be true that you did lots to prepare for a journey and then you find there are some things for which you could not and did not prepare. But of course you don't want to know any of that. You don't know what to do with your sorrow and rage so you come here to share it with me. I wish you blessings on your journey, sister. Go find the beauty. It's there even for you."

That's all the invitation I needed.  I replied with this:


"Cheryl, before anything else, it's nice to finally (sorta) meet you, and I genuinely appreciate the fact that you did not immediately "zap" me from your page. Thank you for that, truly. You and I both know that I do not spend all of my time on your FB page-- or maybe you don't know that, but I don't mean anything insulting by saying so. *Because* I do not spend even a minute of my life looking at your FB page, I was unaware of your post until my readers brought it to my attention and I was hesitant to post a comment because of your admission that you immediately delete anyone who disagrees with you (as you've done with many of my readers). I fully expect that this very response will be deleted. Since, inexplicably, comments cannot be broken up into paragraphs, forgive me for what will appear to be a very long run-on paragraph ( FB needs to change its format). Look, Cheryl. I wanted very badly to like your book. I cannot stress that enough. My 76-year-old ex-nun mother suggested your book to me because she thought that I, as an experienced distance-hiker, would love it. I googled your book and it sounded amazing, and as the only radio station I listen to is NPR, I remember listening to an interview you did and goddamnit, I was genuinely *so excited* to read your book, and I mean that. Here's the thing, Cheryl. I was interested in your book because I thought it was going to be about hiking the PCT. I had never heard of you before and, that said, I never thought to myself, "I wonder what it's like to be Cheryl Strayed." I did, however, wonder, "What would it be like to hike the PCT?" I thought your book would answer that question and I was wildly disappointed. The PCT is like a background extra in your book. The book itself is all about you and your feelings and so on and so forth and I was disappointed. I've found many inconsistencies in your book-- and PCT hikers have emailed me with proof that my apprehension about the validity of your claims is solid. What we don't like is that you seem to be lying and you are making a load of money off of your lies. We are also upset about the fact that you continue to encourage people to go do what you claimed to have done with no preparation whatsoever, and for that, you should be ashamed. People are going to get hurt or killed, and that's very irresponsible of you. Finally, and forgive me for saying so, I don't believe you are a very good writer. I am not a writer. I wanted to be a writer, and I even had a journalism scholarship in high school, but it was taken away because I was openly gay and the school board didn't approve of my editorials in the school newspaper about gay rights-- this was back in the nineties when this sort of fuckery was still acceptable. I gave up on writing, Cheryl. I gave up due to this episode in bigotry. I'm no writer. Despite this, I'm still capable of calling bullshit, and I don't believe your story. Your mileage doesn't add up, your stories don't add up and again, your writing leaves much to be desired. I'm not impressed with you. Go ahead and delete this and "zap" me from your page. I don't believe I've been disrespectful; I've simply dared to have an opinion."


Cheryl deleted this comment because she is incapable of responding to criticism and I have now been blocked from commenting further.  She also deleted my other comments, but left up her response to my non-existent comments because that's how Cheryl rolls.

Please feel free to bombard her FB page with your thoughts about this.

https://www.facebook.com/CherylStrayed.Author/posts/964856360206321

Once she blocks you from her page, feel free to email her at her fake FB account:

https://www.facebook.com/ginger.nile?fref=ts


What a coward.


*** 2/6/15 UPDATE ***
Many thanks to Mercer for alerting me to Cheryl's FB post from today (contrary to what anyone might think, I do not look at Strayed's FB page unless someone sends me a link).  She posted the equivalent to " :( " and waited for all of her idiot followers to bombard her with concern-- "Why are you sad-face, Cheryl?  You're totes the best, we <3 you!"

Here it is:

https://www.facebook.com/CherylStrayed.Author/posts/967256179966339


This is what my friend, Brian, decided to post as a comment on her :(




Can't.  Stop.  Laughing.